


and sure in language strange she said, 'I love thee true'

by soundasever



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: 2x27, Drabble, F/F, Mini Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:37:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundasever/pseuds/soundasever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who the hell cares about fair?”<br/>Laura’s hand has fallen just below Carmilla’s collarbone, where an impossible thumping meets her touch.<br/>She’s been strong, she’s tried so hard to be strong. If she’s weak, she hopes she’ll be forgiven.</p><p>2x27 drabble/mini fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and sure in language strange she said, 'I love thee true'

**Author's Note:**

> She found me roots of relish sweet,  
> And honey wild, and manna-dew,  
> And sure in language strange she said—  
> 'I love thee true.'
> 
> _\- La Belle Dame sans Merci_ , John Keats

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because right now I’m really hoping this means you’re gonna change. You kiss me, and it cracks me open, and all of my stupid, messy hopes come tumbling out in ‘maybes’ and ‘somedays’ and how is that fair?”

“Who the hell cares about fair?”

Laura’s hand has fallen just below Carmilla’s collarbone, where an impossible thumping meets her touch.

She’s been strong, she’s tried so hard to be strong. If she’s weak, she hopes she’ll be forgiven.

Her lips are crashing against Carmilla’s again. She’s in pain. She’s in so much pain she can only kiss, and breathe, and feel the singular point where life, and comfort, and promise are being breathed back in, where her mouth is pressed against a dead girl’s.

She’s shucking off her jacket, and pushing Carmilla’s shirt off her shoulders, and Carmilla clears the desk with her free hand, lifting Laura by the waist and dropping her down on top.

Carmilla tugs Laura’s pants down her hips, she’s frantic, and when she slips her fingers inside her the tears sting hotly in Laura’s eyes.

Come the morning, they may die.

But tonight, they lose themselves in each other, and their mouths soothe old wounds, and their tears cleanse old hurts, and their love fortifies them for new battles.

It’s not perfect, but it might be enough.


End file.
